


Bloodstains and Busted Noses

by netherprince



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Bloodplay, Gunplay, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Multiplicity/Plurality, Not Really Character Death, Violence but in a 'yeah break my nose' way, it's good. it's fine, no one is permadead and everything is fine, not a 'oh god im dying help' way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherprince/pseuds/netherprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn't let James front often. Not around their friends. He's dangerous, unpredictable, and vicious to a tee. But sometimes... Sometimes, you need the rush of power. Sometimes, you need that feeling of abject freedom, sometimes, you need to cut loose and not have to worry.</p>
<p>That is not why James is fronting. This is not voluntary. This is for fun.</p>
<p>(or another fic by that plural prince who writes bullshit with plural ryan. temporary death, lots of violence, geoff is kinda freaked out at first but super into it after he gets it. ryan is russian. james is very russian.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodstains and Busted Noses

**Author's Note:**

> geoff is only freaked out because he doesn't know what's going on at first. he is completely into the violence and pain and stuff. everything is consensual, james just doesn't know how to ask questions before unleashing grievous bodily harm.

Ryan doesn't let James front often. Not around their friends. He's dangerous, unpredictable, and vicious to a tee. But sometimes... Sometimes, you need the rush of power. Sometimes, you need that feeling of abject freedom, sometimes, you need to cut loose and not have to worry.

That is not why James is fronting. This is not voluntary. This is for fun.

A guy can only stay hidden for so long, and that's why there's new fire building in the body, eyes having the only betrayal of the shift physically. The icy, considering blue is deepened, no longer the colour of morning skies but instead the blue of the evening. Ryan idly figures that it's a side effect of being immortal before he allows himself to dip into the blackness of the headspace, falling into furs and silks that keep him more than occupied.

 

Geoff is who finds James. There's no dramatic cries of freedom, no shaking nervousness, nothing so sappy or silly. No, Geoff walks in on the body of his right hand man examining his teeth, wearing jeans that fit(!!!), tall converse(!!!!!), and not a drop of face paint(!!!!!!!!!!). Around the fingers is a fierce, wild grin, and the boss winces to himself as sharp nails rake across gums and leave blood. Instead of a wince, a flinch, there's hysterical laughter, rapid steps, pressure in his side, and then everything Geoff sees is black.

He didn't feel himself hit the wall, or hear the sharp, loud THUNK his head makes. 

He didn't even hear the low, wheezing sound that rattles free from his lungs, or the higher pitch of the laugh.

He still loves it, underneath his bewilderment and explainable shock.

What he does do is smell sweat, gunpowder, and blood. Then, as his vision clears, there's hooked fingers wrapped around his neck so tight his breath snaps out painfully. Ryan is grinning in his face, manic, ruthless. Slowly, the hands slide down, leaving drops of red in their wake, red tinged with the ashes in every member of the crew's veins. "Ry, I know you like rough, but a little warning is ni-"

"-Fuck Ryan, this is my turn, _Geoffrey."_ It comes out more as 'Fuck Rrryan, zees ees my toorrrn, Geoffrrray', the soft Russian accent they're all used to now thick and heavy and as sharp as the blood dripping down Geoff's neck. "Allo, Boss." It fades into laughter, and, man. Geoff needs to not be turned on by his partner suddenly trying to tear him apart. But Ryan is always beautiful, even though it doesn't seem to be Ryan himself filling up the meat. It's a harsh struggle to find his voice again, because all he really wants to do is whimper and moan and let himself melt into the floor.

"If- If, uh- You aren't Ryan, are you, like, his evil twin?" It's a joke. Geoff laughs, nervous, thready. He immediately regrets joking because this new entity laughs like a hyena, like a hyena coming in to rip the flesh off his bones. 

"Something like that, little boss. Evil twin in his pretty head. Aren't we pretty?" The beat goes on too long. The poor confused man wonders if he should grab his gun, then does so. What else do you do? Those hands don't seem to care that they're fucking up nails on fabric. In a fluid motion, the cold metal is pressed under this new one's chin, and there's a delighted gasp and then- and then a mouth wrapped around the muzzle of his pistol, eyes dark and cold. "James. It's my pleasure." Muffled, wet, warm, genuine. One hand curls around Geoff's, and before he can jerk away, fingers press down his own on the trigger and blood spatters everywhere. 

The body of his dearest friend collapses, jaw askew, body limp, eyes still pinched with unbridled... Joy? Then everything falls into ashes and dust and there's no body at all, just a man with a gun and blood on his lips.

Geoff gets about five seconds to freak out, before the dust flickers and Ryan's heavy body is pushed into him again, the laughter even more wild and exhilarated. "Do that _again."_ No scars. No blood on his own clothes, no sign that his head had just been blown off aside from the remaining spatter on Geoff and the rest of the room. The hands are curling around the gun and lips slide over his stained ones, but this time, Geoff jerks back and pants and stares. And stares. And Stares.

Apparently, staring is the wrong choice, because that gets him a feral grin and a sock to the jaw, and then out of instinct Geoff shoots him and-

Well. At least, this time, James doesn't go for the full on attack. He still seems like lightning in a bottle- not a bottle, that's too secure. In a porcelain teapot that's been broken thirty times and repaired worse each time. This time, instead of lunging for Geoff's violence, goading him into it, he falls back. Smiles sickly sweet and holds his arms wide. "Are you not having fun?"

Geoff could lie. But, god. His faltering smile and stammer of 'actually, I am-' gets James on him again, this time eagerly kissing along his neck. This isn't Ryan, but this everything he likes in both Michael and Ryan, fierce and impulsive and ready to dig in and take charge. "Can I know who it is I've, uh, killed twice?" That earns him a fierce bite, then James sags, tongue swiping blood off his lips as he looks curiously down at Geoff.

Looking at him when he's not attacking or moving gives the boss insight, something he desperately needed here. The years that Ryan wears like chains around his neck are gone. The fears, the idea that he could be wrong, the mere thought that something else could work doesn't seem to exist, and then it clicks. This is Ryan if he was younger. This is Ryan if he hadn't fallen into his broken, half tamed state. Mostly, anyway. Whatever happened to Ryan that he's the dual sided ruthless killer and shaky shut-in, this one doesn't have the same fallout. The 'hero', or at least as close as Ryan could manage.

Or, of course, this is just a violent person who likes pain and blood and a good fight.

"James. I told you, boss, or were you not listening?" Geoff starts to protest for more information, but James just wipes his mouth and smiles, a little calmer. "The reason why Ryan lives yet. Da? He is too weak for this world without me." Slowly, his unorthodox interruption catches up, and an embarrassed look flits across that beautiful face. "I might... Perhaps. Was too excited to get to be out and feel." The guy isn't totally being honest on the 'was'. He's trembling yet, ready to be punched or shot or to return the favour. 

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Except, y'know, some heads up would have been nice, uh, James." Another beat. This one doesn't draw for three years, though- just half a second, and then-

"Heads up, boss."

And then Geoff is pulled down, rough and excited hands in his suit and yanking tight on the bow keeping his shirt proper. 

Everything gets a little fuzzy after that.

 

James doesn't hate Geoff. He adores him. He's been attached since Ryan met him, and this was his first time to get to meet him, and, well. He feels bad for going overboard. For losing himself to blood lust- and lusty blood. So, when he pulls Geoff in for a kiss, it's soft. Gentle. So light that the Southerner he's holding growls and pushes into it, bites roughly on his lip. "Don't go easy on me now, Jamie." He wonders if it's visible, how hard the nickname makes him shudder.

When Geoff whispers it against his bloody mouth, he figures it was obvious. It brings out his laughter, which is so much sweeter to his own ears than anyone else's. James shifts out of instinct when he feels Geoff's hand move, just to look at him, and that's when he sees a search for permission on a tired face. James gives it freely, not caring what it's for. It's for Geoff, duh. If it kills him, he'll just come back and have more fun.

He finds out exactly what it's for, though, when his nose crunches under a strong punch, the pain not connecting as _pain_ as he laughs into a moan, falling back into the bed. James wonders if immortality twists pain into excitement and pleasure, of if it's just him. His introspection lasts all of a second, because blood drips into his mouth and he moans, bucking up against Geoff roughly. "You're a weird fucker, Jamie. Good thing that's what we like around here, or I might not like you as much." 

_He likes me!_ James is younger than Ryan, but still old enough to take American booze. There's just no threes in his age. His youth makes him even happier than Ryan to take the praise, not jaded or prepared for a lie, and he beams a bloody smile around a rasped ask to see more than a bloody shirt on Geoff. The man is happy to oblige, because why wouldn't he. If this is a strange equivalent of a one night stand, he's gonna make it a good one.

Two sets of shaking hands undo Geoff's suit, James refusing to take off his own shirt as he loathes thinking about the binder and other things underneath. Geoff quirks an eyebrow- Ryan got his top surgery years ago, after their first big heist together, but decides not to question it. Strong hands squeeze around Geoff's cracked ribs, and he howls out his moan, panting cut off roughly when one of those hands shoots up to his throat. Ryan's a chatty bastard in headspace. He knows that Geoff likes this from secondhand experience, but keeps his grip light enough for a denial that doesn't come. 

James doesn't hold it there forever, though, because his time is short and Geoff is beautiful, which has been whispered constantly under his breath, hands sliding down to his hips again as he leans up, Geoff's eyes lidded and blood still staining his cheeks over the thick flush...

 

The scruffy gang leader has fingers bruising inked hips when there's a sharp gasp from below him, making him open his eyes. Every year is back on that face, along with the bruises and blood spatter and, embarrassingly enough, drool. Ryan blinks slowly up at Geoff, fingers sliding delicately up his sides, mapping broken ribs and new scars. Up to his face, where blood has dried and bruises have bloomed, almost matching the ones on his own face. There's confusion on the Russian's features, and then embarrassment, fury, and finally a resigned amusement as he realizes precisely what's happened.

Geoff doesn't have the heart to tell him to bring James back, even if he's aching in every way possible.

"I'm sorry, Geoff. He's... Like that. Are you okay? He, he backs off if you tell him-" Ryan's voice is hoarse, soft, and Geoff doesn't know how he confused the two of them. Fingers whisper along his blackened neck, and he just closes his eyes, sigh melting into a moan. 

"Ryan, if I didn't want him to fuck with me, I would have killed him and left, or called Michael to deal with him. Only negative I had was surprise and fucking confusion- and, by the way, what the fuck was that?" Geoff's even rougher in his voice, but he's slowly sliding off of Ryan to curl up beside him, fingers compulsively checking his partner now that the moment is over. They'll both probably take resets soon, just to get rid of the slowly dawning pain. Along his neck, gently over his nose, sliding through his hair to what should have been the exit wound of a bullet. 

Ryan flushes a little, eyes cast away. "That... Was my headmate. I don't like to bring him around because he's always like that. I. Should have mentioned that you weren't just hiring one shithead, huh?" That gets him a kiss, and a laugh.

"If I didn't like hiring shitheads, I wouldn't be here myself. You should definitely let me play with him some more, though."

A beat.

"Just warn me next time, you asshole, shooting you isn't the most fun thing I've done today."


End file.
